While You Sleep
by SilentSpeaker13
Summary: Rise, fall.  Rise, fall.  Stan needs to watch Kyle sleep.  Fluffy.  Stlye. R/R


**AN: Quick oneshot, wrote it before I saw "You're Getting Old". G-damn that was a downer. You know it's the when SP gets serious.**

**R/R to make me happy :) Thanks!**

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><p>Rise, fall. Rise, fall. Rise, fall.<p>

Stan always watched the rise and fall of Kyle's chest when he slept.

He knew it was a little creepy.

He knew it was pretty weird.

He knew it went way beyond even super best friend normality.

He couldn't help it.

It was half the reason he convinced Kyle to spend the night as his house and vice versa.

It was a secret and delicate kind of pleasure, growing in him as softly as Kyle's restful breaths. His routine was a scared ritual by now; after all of the best friend chatter had died into sleepy "goodnight"s he would wait in the darkness for the stillness that signaled sleep, he could feel it as though the two of them were connected by invisible strings as strong as a spider's web, he would roll onto his side and prop himself up, and then do nothing but watch Kyle in slumber. He could no longer go to sleep without doing so if Kyle was there.

At first all he had done was glance at his friend, begun suddenly and inexplicably; it'd felt like a siren's call, the need to steal a sly look in Kyle's direction. That had gone on for a month or two, quick glances that gradually grew into long stares. Before he knew it he was studying Kyle in his sleeping state. And like a lover he began to become intimately familiar with the sweetly altered appearance that no one else had ever seen. He became more amazed each day, unaware that so much could be discovered in someone he'd known his whole life, but there it was.

He wanted sometimes to tell everyone and yet desperately kept his newfound discovery to himself, not out of fear but out of a selfish desire to keep it all to himself, to make himself the special sole keeper of Kyle's vulnerability. The way Kyle's face became so soft, the way it never really was when he was awake and passionate, the way his red curls spilled across the pillow case untamed and wild, the way his mouth parted slightly sometimes in dream, how he turned occasionally to expose pale white skin from beneath sheets and shirts and shorts, the soft little moans he let out in wonderful and rare moments, all of this was Stan's and only his, like a precious treasure.

It was more and different than any friend might look at another. It was even necessary to do so. Despite having never had insomnia before, if Kyle was near him Stan couldn't fall asleep unless it was to the steady, gentle rhythm of Kyle's breaths. It was only then that Stan would feel his body slacken and his eyelids grow heavy as his own breathing fell in tune with Kyle's.

But tonight was different.

Stan had watched Kyle for over an hour now and still sleep did not grace him. He wasn't bothered by his waking state, but rather by the nagging feeling inside him, the same kind that had first driven him to watch Kyle.

He needed to touch Kyle. He wouldn't fall asleep unless he did.

He debated a little.

He knew it was a little creepy.

He knew it was pretty weird.

He knew it went way beyond even super best friend normality.

He didn't care.

Stan threw off the sheets and blankets and swung his feet over the edge of his bed. He stood. He stepped carefully over to where his friend slept on the floor. Why had they ever stopped sharing beds, he pondered. He lowered himself to the floor slowly. He stretched out his legs. He felt the carpet rub up against his skin. He was so close now; he could see every detail of Kyle's softened features. The need to touch him pulled at him desperately now.

Without hesitation he reached over and pushed some stray curls from Kyle's forehead with the back of his hand. He was so close now their bodies were practically touching; had Kyle been lying on his side he would've felt his friend's breath upon his face. Stan slid even closer. With certainty and a gentleness he didn't know he possessed he slipped an arm into Kyle's unzipped sleeping bag and wrapped it around Kyle's waist. He pulled their bodies tightly together and, meshed against Kyle's side, buried his face into those auburn curls.

This feeling was new, beyond and more important than pleasure; it was contentedness he felt now. He felt safe and warm and more relaxed than ever. He was in the right place, the place he should have been all along.

As quick as anesthesia sleep tugged at him; his focus became dull, his eyelids fell on their own accord. Before they closed he saw a twitch of Kyle's mouth, a sleepy smile. Through the fog of semi-consciousness he heard Kyle speak as he drifted off.

"Took you long enough," Kyle slurred, two arms wrapped around Stan to pull him in even closer.

Maybe it was creepy.

Maybe it was a little weird.

It went beyond the boundaries of friendship.

But screw it, it was perfect and it was right.

Stan's lips curled up as he fell asleep.


End file.
